"All writing is pigshit.
People who leave the obscure, and try to define what goes on in their heads, are pigs. The whole literary scene is a pigpen, especially this one.
All those who have vantage points in their spirit, I mean, on some side or other of their heads and in a few strictly localized brain areas; all those who are masters of their language; all those for whom words have a meaning; all those for whom there exist sublimities in the soul and currents of thoughts; all those who are the spirit of the times, and who have named these currents of thoughts - and I am thinking of their precise works, of that automatic grinding that delivers their spirit to the winds -
are pigs."
I'm reading Deleuze. He (and his militant buddy Guattari) quotes this kind of thing. Poor pigs. Poor me. Poor us. Poor trains of thought.
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